AT BAY
Lieutenant Russell held a long consultation with Nellie Dawson, after
the departure of Vose Adams. His first intention had been to press
their flight with all possible vigor, and, as will be recalled, Adams
carried away that belief with him.
"My view of matters has undergone a change," he said after a time to
his companion, who looked up in his face for an explanation.
"Instead of waiting until we reach Sacramento for a meeting with your
father, I believe it will be much better to have it as soon as
possible."
"Why?" she asked, though curious to say, she had been wavering for
some time in her belief.
"It will add to rather than lessen his anger, if he is obliged to
follow us that far, and the fact that he is in a city instead of the
mountains will not decrease his determination to do me injury."
"What about those who are with him?"
"Your father is the only one to be considered. My proposal is that we
wait here till to-morrow morning until they come up; what is your
opinion?"
"I believe you are right; let us do so; I don't think father will cast
me off when I go to him."
The plan was carried out, though the young man felt more misgiving
than his companion suspected. He remained on guard a part of the
night, sharing the duty with Timon, whose almost human intelligence
made him as reliable as a trained scout himself.
Straight to the spot came the pursuers soon after daylight, when the
horses were saddled and bridled. Nellie was in a state of feverish
expectancy. When she caught sight of her father, leading the others,
she joyfully uttered his name and ran toward him with outstretched
arms.
"Father, my own father, are you not glad to see your Nellie?"
Still holding his Winchester half-raised, he glanced sternly at her
and replied:
"Come no nearer; you are no daughter of mine!"
She stopped as if shot, and with hands still outstretched stood
motionless, with her eyes fixed yearningly upon him. She was like a
marble statue, without the breath of life in her body. All were
silent. Even Timon looked from one to another without moving. The
whole thing was beyond his comprehension.
Then the dreadful truth seemed to force itself upon the consciousness
of the girl, who staggered backward to the nearest boulder, upon which
she sank and covered her face with her hands. She did not weep, for
her grief was too deep.
And who shall picture the sorrow that wrenched the heart strings of
the parent? There was a strange look on his face and his massive frame
trembled. But he quickly recovered his self-poise, and looking away
from his child, fixed his eyes upon Lieutenant Russell.
"It is with _you_ that I have to settle."
"I am ready."
The young officer was standing beside his pony, with one arm resting
on the saddle, across which his rifle was supported, while the other
hand lay idly on his hip, and his body was borne upon one foot. His
pose was one of negligence, as if he and his animal had taken position
before the camera, and the world contained no such thing as hatred and
enmity. He looked calmly into the angered countenance, while he waited
for the next words of the man who was impatient to send a bullet
through his heart.
Wade Ruggles and Felix Brush would have been glad of the privilege of
doing this, but they felt that for the time they were out of it. The
right of calling Lieutenant Russell to account lay with the father of
Nellie. They had nothing to do or say until that tragedy was ended,
and they stood apart, silent, grim and watchful of everything.
The coolness of the young man disconcerted the captain for the
moment. Feeling it unnecessary to hold his weapon, he lowered the
point, but, never once removing his eyes from the face of the other,
said:
"I will give you the same chance as myself for your life; though you
do not deserve to live, it shall never be said I took any advantage
over you. Each of us has a revolver and knows how to use it; you may
pace off the distance for yourself, but make it short."
"Captain, I decline to fight you," replied Lieutenant Russell, without
a change of pose and in his usual voice.
"Why?" demanded the other.
"You have saved my life on the battle field; we have been comrades; we
have drank from the same canteen; shoot me if you wish; I will keep
the position I now hold and you may stand where you are; you have your
Winchester in your hands; you have but to raise it and it will be all
over in a twinkling, but nothing that you can say or do will induce me
to harm one of your gray hairs."
This reply was unexpected to all, but it served if possible to
intensify the wrath of Captain Dawson. He shook with tempestuous rage,
and it was several seconds before he could command his voice. Ruggles,
Brush and Adams did not stir or whisper a word to one another. The
white-faced Nellie remained seated on the boulder, but she lowered her
hands and stared at the two, as if she could not comprehend it all.
Once she made a motion to rise, but sank back and stared with a
fixidity of gaze that went to the hearts of the three spectators.
"You are a sneaking scoundrel to use those words," said Captain
Dawson, when able to command his voice; "all the past is wiped out
except that of the last two days; I shall shoot you for stealing my
child from me."
The lieutenant looked calmly into the countenance of the man, and,
lowering his tones almost to a whisper, that was perfectly audible to
all, replied:
"I am at your disposal."
From the moment Captain Dawson learned of the flight of his child, he
had been eager for but one thing,--the opportunity to draw bead on the
miscreant, without giving him an instant to prepare for death. That
opportunity was his but he hesitated. Something that he could not
explain, but which incensed him, held his hand motionless.
But perhaps the end would have been the same, when he rallied from the
momentary struggle, had not his daughter awakened from the daze that
had held her mute and motionless. Like Pocahontas, she sprang forward,
with arms again outstretched, and with a faint shriek, flung them
about the form of her lover.
"Shoot father, if you will, but you shall kill me too!"
Felix Brush shivered and turning away his head, muttered in a broken
voice:
"My God, Wade! I can't stand this!"
Ruggles attempted to reply, but the words choked in his throat. Still
he and Adams kept their eyes upon the three before them. Ruggles was
on the point of interfering when Nellie Dawson averted the necessity.
Lieutenant Russell was disconcerted. His lip quivered, and, with
infinite tenderness, he sought to loosen the arms that entwined him,
but she would not permit it.
"No, no, no! He shall not part us! Let him slay us both! Do not
repulse me! I will die with you!"
The situation of Captain Dawson was awful. He was scarcely himself.
The dainty form of his child could not fully shield the athletic
figure of Lieutenant Russell, strive as much as she might, and the
opening for the threatened shot was as clear as ever. Whether he would
have persisted in his intention can never be known, for at that
juncture the startling incidents were succeeded by one still more
startling and unexpected.